A New Mask
by silentfilmfan91
Summary: A mysterious and dangerous woman begins to stalk le Vicomte. When police fail to track her down, Christine realizes that there is only one man who knows the dark alleys as well as the woman does, and that she needs his help...for any price.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any work of Leroux, Kay, or Webber.**

Chapter 1:

Christine Daae listened in slight regret as the sounds of her knitting filled the room. If she attempted to hum a tune to echo in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, she would begin to feel sick. Truth be told, ever since _the incident_, singing made her head spin at a dizzying rate and her eyes begin to blur the images around her. Because whenever she'd sing, she'd imagine Erik's voice joining in and harmonizing with hers. It was part of his musical teaching; the concept of him being with her whenever she desired for her voice to soar and astound.

But Erik was dead to her now, in every possible meaning of the word. Or, at least she hoped. And in the event that she simply could not resist singing once more, she would first have his flowing vibrato ringing in her head, and then she'd always, despite mental warning, look at some reflective surface…and gaze upon a masked face once more. She would continue to sing to that concealed face, even though at that point she would only want to stop vocalizing. But ending the music was never an option when Erik appeared. The masked figure would extend his gloved hand, and with a pulling motion, would, quite literally, pull the music from her voice. It would be then where the sickness would begin, where her stomach would churn and she'd crouch to the ground in agony. And it would be then where the masquerading man would, in one fluid movement, remove the piece of porcelain from his face and force her to look upon a human corpse once again as his stare burned through her large eyes and made her heart beat in heavy, uneven beats.

And then she would simply lie on the white carpeting of her home and wait for Raoul to return home to help her up.

Christine stopped and smiled for a moment as she thought about him. _Ah_ _yes, Raoul. Her love, her protection, her…everything_. She pictured his sky blue eyes in her mind, along with his silky skin and rose-petal lips. When he was near, even if there was sleet and snow outside, she would always feel the warmth of summer. She would feel her heart race, exactly as it did when they were mere children, until her face grew red and he would place a gentle hand upon her cheek. It was the perfect storybook ending, exactly what her father, God rest his soul, had wished.

Christine's thoughts were interrupted when she heard the front door click open. Coming in accompanied by a gust of wind, Raoul entered, his cheeks glowing pink as his black coat failed to keep the cold air from coming in contact with his delicate skin. After closing the door behind him, he removed his top hat, letting his sandy hair fall freely on his face.

Christine could not help but grin. Since he had developed, for obvious reasons, a certain dislike for opera, they had spent their trips in the city to various art museums and historical landmarks. Christine, however, was only fascinated by the sculpted angels and men of marble because they held such a resemblance to le Vicomte.

She let her tiny feet carry her to the opposite end of the house where he was standing.

She wrapped her thin arms around him in a warm, loving embrace.

"How was your day?" She said with pure joy in her voice.

"It was alright."

Christine frowned a little. _"It was alright?"_ _What had happened to "It was great, darling" or "It could not have been better" or "I cannot think of a man as lucky as I am."?_

But she decided not to ask about the response. Whatever had happened that caused his reply, it was probably so terrible that he would most likely decline in talking about it.

Christine, instead, focused on trying to remove the scattered pieces of dust that had fused themselves onto the soft material of his jacket. As she moved her hands up and down along the fabric, Raoul drew back.

Christine frowned again. _That was very odd. She had completed that same routine everyday, so why ever would he take a step backwards?_

She ignored his actions and continued. But she had accidentally opened the coat by its lapels to reveal, perhaps, what he was trying to hide.

In the middle of his otherwise crisp white shirt was a very noticeable rip mark, too large to even be repaired.

"What happened?" She knew, like Erik, he also was not attracted to her inquisitive nature, but she just had to know.

"Nothing dear, I…it just got hooked to the door of the carriage when I got out, and I accidentally ripped it. But I have many shirts, so this one really is not a loss."

Christine looked down to the floor, still grasping onto the cloth. Raoul was generally a very careful person, and this was the first time something of this nature occurred.

But, as unlikely as it was, even people like him had days that did not go so well.

Christine moved away as he headed towards the coat closet. As he did, he eyed the armchair in the living room, and the knitted object sitting on it.

"What did you sew today?" He asked, trying to switch to a lighter subject.

Christine actually did not know. She reached down to the seat of the chair to hold up the piece of clothing to the light as Raoul was hanging his outerwear.

She nearly gasped as the two eyeholes and slit revealed the object to be a mask.

She quickly hid it behind her back as Raoul came out of the closet.

"Oh, nothing…just another pair of socks.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Christine was beginning to wonder about her sanity and just how fragile it was. She couldn't help but notice a recent change in her atmosphere, although what the change was, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. All she was certain of was the sweatiness of her palms and her newfound habit of glancing at particular objects multiple times in a row. She felt as if she was being watched…as if…

_No._ She refused to think of him again. She would not allow herself to once more think of his eyes that seemed to penetrate through stone walls and follow her into the deepest caverns in her mind…with an intruding glare that sated itself into her dreams and explored the clouds of emotion within her, pulling away the layers of fear and pity to reveal a feeling that had no name and was much more tolerable being covered up.

Christine convinced herself once more. He was gone. Their business was done with. What motive could have possibly possessed him to venture to her home for the sole purpose of driving her to full madness? None, that was the answer.

But even still…it was almost as if the air had become a little heavier, and the hours longer lasting, especially since the time approaching Raoul's arrival home seemed to make the ominous feeling dissolve slowly bit by bit until its complete destruction at the sound of Raoul's voice.

A loud slamming of the front door suddenly made Christine spring up, clutching her hand to her chest as if it could stop the sensation of feeling like her heart was leaping out. She tiptoed to the main corridor to see Raoul grappling onto the wall in what appeared to be pain, and saw little flakes of wallpaper cascade to the wooden floor after being scratched out by his nails digging in. Evidently her presence was at first unknown to him, for he kept on panting and shifting his wild-eyed glare in every direction but hers.

"Raoul?"

He jolted as she placed a hand on his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he finally realized that Christine would expect an explanation for his madman-appearance.

"Christine…I-"

"Good Lord...what happened to you?"

She turned him around to face her, only to reveal an image that would forever burn in her memory.

All around his shirt were long, jagged cuts; some were outlined by borders of blood. Sweat stains surrounded the collar and his jacket was no longer in his possession.

Christine placed her hand on her mouth, stifling her cries.

"Please Raoul…tell me what happened."

"I don't want to worry you--"

"Tell me what happened!" Christine's booming voice shocked her, but she had reached the point of hysterics.

Raoul took small steps to the living room and, while still holding her hand, guided them both to the seat of the couch.

"To be honest, Christine, I don't quite know. For the past few weeks I have come across…odd happenings."

"Odd happenings? Like what?"

"Since I come home very late and my name is relatively known, I didn't make much of a big deal over people coming up to me, grappling onto me to ask for money or things of that sort. Paris is a city, after all. And when my shirt was ruined the other night by some street urchin, I tried to hide it to avoid making the situation seem worse than it actually was…"

"Go on, Raoul, please: don't stop."

"But tonight, I was apparently attacked by the same person. I was strolling down the Rue Scribe, and suddenly I was pulled into an alley—a dark, moonlight-lacking alley—and I felt a cool blade on my throat…and a cheek resting on mine."

"Oh God, Raoul!"

"I heard a woman's voice. She let out a laugh that pierced my ears and pulled me closer to her. She then said 'Come away with me to my world of endless night. Come on…I'll take you…you won't have to worry about your darling little wife any longer.' She began to pull me into the depths of the alley, holding me at the waist. But I made the observation that she wasn't restraining my arms well. I was able to push away the knife and escape her grasp, only to have her wave the blade around in the dark, tearing up my shirt. I tried to look at her face, tried to get a glimpse…but all I saw was a long black cloak and hood covering a nameless face."

"Did you tell the police?"

"No."

Christine suddenly arose and stared down at Raoul.

"Why not?"  
"Do you have any idea how much of a scandal it would bring? I can see the headlines now: "Vicomte Raoul de Chagny pursued by a mysterious woman"! We're trying to avoid the papers for our wedding, Christine! We can't have this public attention now! Especially after…well, let's not bring that up again…"

"No, please…continue…you think it's him, don't you?"

"Well…I, alright…yes. Yes, Christine, I think it's his doing. I mean--honestly! Admit it, when I first told you of this, his face was the first to come to mind!"

"It's not him, Raoul." Christine grew quiet now, slowly nodding her head as she stared at the ground.

"So the masked face, the black cape, the trying to murder me—all of that doesn't make you suspect him at all? I mean, even with the woman's voice…do you doubt that a man with the powers of hypnotism and ventriloquism can also disguise his voice?"

"He let us go. He wanted us to be happy. It isn't him, I tell you."

"Christine, rationally speaking—"

"It is not Erik, Raoul!"

"Fine, fine, I'll remove him from my suspicion." Raoul rolled his eyes during the brief moment at which Christine blinked.

"You'll do more than that. The next time anything threatening happens to you, you are calling the police, so that they can find the true culprit so that you'll never think badly of Erik again."

Raoul's face suddenly twisted into a strange form: a mix between shock, disgust and a slight undercurrent of jealously. He rose up from his seat and took a few paces backwards, never breaking eye contact from his fiancé.

"You chose him again. Under any circumstances, you'll always choose him."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"The main reason you want to find this stalker is to prove to yourself that Erik has some good in him, rather than ensure my safety. You stand here, arguing with your fiancé, over a man…a man who manipulated and frightened you! Why, Christine? What is it? What is it that draws you to him still?"

Christine made no reply. Instead, she started heading towards the door. _Someone was knocking_. Faintly, barely audible, but the knocking was there. Raoul grew silent as she placed her hand over the brass knob, opening the door to welcome a gust of wind and a glimpse of the pine trees outside.

But no one was there. Christine took a step outside to look around for someone, and then…

Out of nowhere, a noose flew from the air, latching onto her throat.

She wanted to scream, but the lasso was already too tight around her neck, literally squeezing the air out of her. Her hands grasped onto the sand-colored rope, but to no avail. Her knees bent abruptly and she fell to the ground, still clinging to her life.

"Christine!"

Raoul appeared at the doorway, ready to fight to the death to save her.

But he didn't need to. At his sudden appearance, the noose was released, and the rope lay nestled in the ground. Christine gasped for sweet air and opened her bright blue eyes as far as they could be opened, savoring every second of life in fear that it could be taken away from her at any moment.

Raoul began frantically searching around in the bushes, adorned with the face of a madman. He grimaced as he shouted Erik's name and looked in every dark corner, but no one was to be seen. At last, Raoul looked back at the Punjab lasso that rested in front of Christine…and another object too…

He picked up a piece of parchment, scrawled on in red ink. He couldn't decipher the writing…he couldn't even tell if it was just messy or in an entirely different language.

Sighing in disappointment at this defeat, he tried to compose himself as he lifted Christine onto his shoulder and into the carriage that awaited them a half hour later.


End file.
